Descended by Blood (7 page)

“No. He gave me the money so he wouldn’t look like a complete jerk,” Jaren said, voice shaking. I’d never heard him like this. I knew his dad was cold, but I never thought he could be this mean and heartless.

I tried to stay optimistic for Jaren’s sake. “Regardless of why, you do have the money, and you’ll need it to get a place. If you want, we can skip school to start looking this morning.”

“Yeah, I want to get out of here as soon as I can. He obviously doesn’t want me living here. I tried so hard to stay out of his way, too. I never asked him for money or anything.” He sounded vexed.

“’Kay, let me shower. I’ll come pick you up, and then we’ll make some calls.” This was going to be a rough day for Jaren. He was already sensitive about his dad, and this was only going to make it worse. I couldn’t understand how a father could do that to his own son.

“Thanks. It means a lot to me that you’re here for me like this.” Jaren’s sincerity broke my heart.

“Of course I’m here for you. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

* * *

When I pulled into Jaren’s driveway, he was sprawled out on the lawn with a vase of pink lilies propped up against him. He saw me and dragged himself up with a grim twist to his mouth. He walked over to get in the passenger side. He really was in a bad mood if he didn’t want to drive. He always wanted to drive. That was another thing about his dad. He had the means to buy Jaren a car as owner one of the manufacturing plants in town. But he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t give Jaren any spending money, either. That was why Jaren worked after school instead of joining another sports team.

“Are you okay? And what are the flowers for?” I asked, grabbing his hand. I had to wiggle my fingers against the tight fist he must have been holding since his dad dropped the bomb. Jaren’s hand relaxed, as did some of the anger on his face.

He handed me the vase with his other hand. “I got these for you as part of the plan for today, I didn’t want to leave them here. They’re yours and you should have them.”

Lilies were my favorite flowers. “Aww, thanks. I’m so sorry your dad did this to you.”

Jaren looked at me with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I wanted to break everything in the house as a little reminder that he could’ve had it so much worse.”

“You didn’t though, did you?” His dad was the type of man who would call the sheriff and demand charges be brought against him. His own son.

“No, but it felt good to imagine it.” Now the smile reached his eyes, but it was a bitter one devoid of happiness.

I gave the vase back and turned the car around to get us out of there before Jaren decided property damage was indeed appropriate. “I figured we could go back to my house to find some places that are renting, and then we could go check some of ’em out.”

“That works,” Jaren said. “It sucks I’ll probably have to use some of my college money for things that are not for college.”

“I thought you were getting a scholarship?” Jaren was supposed to play lacrosse for William and Lee University next season.

“I did, but it doesn’t cover housing or books.”

“Well, I’m sure it’ll all work out.” I had to believe it would. Jaren deserved so much more than his dad had given him.

I pulled into my driveway and shut the car off. I was glad my mom was already gone. I didn’t want her hovering the whole time. Plus, she wouldn’t be too happy that I was missing school, either.

I set the vase of lilies on the counter and turned on my laptop. “Do you want anything to eat or drink?” I asked Jaren.

“Nah, I’m not really hungry, but I’ll take a Coke if you have one?” I handed him his drink and opened my Web browser. I searched for places to rent in Buena Vista.

“What about this one?” It was close to his work and it was the same price as an apartment, but it was a quaint little duplex.

“I could probably swing that,” Jaren said with some interest.

He pulled out his phone and called Trish, the lady listed as the contact. “Hello, Trish? This is Jaren Matthews. Would it be possible for me to look at your duplex on Iring?” There was a pause as Trish responded. “That works. We’ll be there at ten.”

We found a couple of other places that Jaren could “swing” and then set out on a mission to find him a new place to live.

The first apartment we looked at was in his price range, but it reeked of stale cat urine. We didn’t have to go very far into that place to know it was a dud.

We drove to Trish’s duplex next. The house rested on a well-manicured yard with red and violet Japanese ivy climbing up the planks of gray siding.

Trish, a sweet, middle-aged woman with back problems said she hired out the yard care to the Taylor boys. “I’ll give you a discount on the rent if you do the yard yourself,” Trish said, unlocking the front door. “Mr. Brackens next door is too old for any kind of yard work, and his eyes and hearing are shot.”

We were welcomed inside to a brightly lit yellow room. Light streamed in from the curtains to flutter against the back wall. The place looked dated with the wallpaper and the yellow Formica counter tops in the kitchen, but at least the house had been updated as recently as the ’80s. The floors creaked underfoot, but they looked clean and well maintained.

The bedroom had been updated most recently. The wallpaper was gone, replaced by a fresh coat of eggshell paint. New, plush carpet had been laid and the soft brown tones complemented the paint. It felt cozy in here.

“I like it,” I said to Jaren. I could tell he liked it, too, by the way he kept opening up the drawers and closets.

“You know, I think this is the one.” Jaren showed the first sign of a true smile all day.

9

Catalyst

Kaitlynn, David, Jaren, and I had been moving Jaren into his new place all weekend. David couldn’t get over how cool it was that Jaren had his own bachelor pad, and I think some of his excitement rubbed off on Jaren.

Jaren’s dad let him take all the furniture out of his room, so it was nice Jaren didn’t have to buy everything from scratch, although Jaren thought it was so his dad didn’t have any reminders of Jaren lying around.

Kaitlynn and David had been gone for a couple of hours when I began to make dinner. Jaren put on one of the
Fast and Furious
movies to watch while we ate. I was glad he was finally settling in.

The doorbell rang, and I jumped, spaghetti sauce splashing over the sides of the pot. Kaitlynn and David had already become accustomed to walking in, and neither Jaren nor I expected anybody else.

“Can I help you?” Jaren asked the person at the door.

I came around the kitchen wall to see who Jaren spoke to.

It was him. The man who had been following me. My heart raced at seeing the same trench coat, and the same sharp features that were now casting shadows in Jaren’s porch light. I dropped the glass I’d been holding. It shattered on the tile. Fear punched me in the gut.

“Brooke,” said the man. “My Lady requires that you come with me.” He swept his arm to the side and out toward the walk as if it was already decided I was going with him.

He stood under the porch stoop, looking as menacing as I remembered. I shook my head, which was the only course of action I could take in my terrified state to nullify going with him. A tickle crawled along my scalp, and my mind took on a weightless, floating sensation. My body urged me to go with this man.

“No.” My mouth was dry, so it came out as a rasp. I shook my head, trying to clear the fog and strange urge. When it was clear I wasn’t leaving, the man pushed Jaren aside, marching in after me.

“Hey!” Jaren demanded, grabbing the man by his arm.

The man turned back at Jaren,
hissing
at him, like a cat but more threatening. Jaren’s eyes widened with fear.

“What the…?” Jaren breathed.

The man grabbed Jaren with one arm and launched him, as if Jaren were a small dog. Jaren landed hard on the end table, smashing it to pieces.

“Uggghh,” Jaren whimpered.

I ran across the room to get to Jaren, but the man stepped in front of me. Face to face, I saw his fangs.

“Whoa!” I froze. I wanted to believe he was some psycho who thought it cool to brandish fake fangs, but he wore them with a confidence a creature could only get from knowing how to use the real ones.

Jaren crept up behind the man, with his pocket knife out. “You need to leave now, or this isn’t going to turn out well for any of us.”

The man turned back at Jaren and cackled at him. “You trying to get yourself killed, boy? I
am
leaving here with the catalyst,” the man said, pointing at me. “I’m sick of trying to procure her without any casualties. You can either survive it or not. I don’t care anymore.” He spoke with a thick accent that sounded European.

Jaren lunged at him in warning, but the man was fast. He snatched the knife out of Jaren’s hand and threw it, stabbing the wall behind me. My heart pounded in my ears.

Who was this guy?

The man attacked Jaren, grabbing him by the throat and squeezing. With one arm, he lifted Jaren clear from the floor.

A squeak leaked out between Jaren’s lips with what I feared might be his last exhale. Heat scorched my veins.

I grabbed a hold of the knife stuck in the wall and struggled to yank it out. I leaped at the man, swinging the knife in as large of an arc as I could to gain momentum, and sliced it into the side of his throat.

I expected him to release Jaren, drop to his knees, and gurgle to his death.

He dropped Jaren, but instead of falling to his knees, the man turned to me with malice on his face. His intentions for me now were much worse than taking me to his
Lady
.

He sprung at me with incredible speed.

I followed his movements and dodged him.

He turned around, fangs glinting in the overhead light, and his hands came up with his fingers curling into the likeness of claws. He lunged at me again, catching me on my shoulder with one of his sharp, clawed fingers. Pain burned down the back of my shoulder where the flesh tore.

Adrenaline spiked through me, intensifying the heat and heightening all of my senses. The pain in my shoulder numbed.

I sped toward the fanged man with all of my strength. I ran three steps up the side of the wall to give me a better angle and propelled myself off, lunging through the air toward him. My hands reached out, locking onto the sides of his head. I held on as tight as I could and used my momentum to swing around him.

Crack!

His neck snapped.

He finally drooped to the floor, arms slumped at his sides, fingers relaxed to a less deadly posture.

* * *

I ran to Jaren, needing to know if he was all right. He sat up, shook his head, and stared up at me in awe and confusion.

“How did you do that?” he asked, stunning me out of action mode and into
Oh my God! What did I do?
mode.

The strength and speed I used should have been impossible. Fear unfurled with the rapid beat of my heart, and my hands shook. I turned to look at the man who I’d killed.

He lay on his side with his head twisted back at me. The menace was gone from his eyes, but the life in them was, too.

“Oh, my God. What do we do?” I verged on hyperventilation. A dead man lay in Jaren’s living room. A dead man who I had
killed
. “I killed him. What do we do?” I looked at Jaren with fear and hopelessness. My fear must have spurred him into action.

“We have to get out of here. More of those monsters might be coming for you when he doesn’t return with you, or return at all, for that matter.” He started hustling through the house grabbing things and shoving them into the duffel bag he had just unpacked hours ago.

I stood, frozen, staring at the lifeless form that seconds ago had been about to rip my head off. “It was self-defense, wasn’t it? He was trying to take me. Then he almost killed you. I had no choice, right?” I thought out loud, hoping Jaren would tell me I wasn’t a monster.

He didn’t say anything, though. He only ran in and out of the room, grabbing clothes and supplies.

“Why are you packing? We need to call the police. The police will protect us if the man’s friends come for us.”

Jaren set his bag down and looked at me. “And tell them what? That you had superhuman strength? That you were able to give this guy a complete one-eighty degree makeover of his head. They’ll never believe what we just saw, which means they will never be able to properly protect us, either. We have to get out of here. These people can’t find us. Do you understand this?”

“Mm-hmm.” An invisible vise tightened around my throat.

“Call your mom,” Jaren said. He picked up his bag to continue his packing.

I walked to the kitchen on legs that wobbled as I stepped over the shards of glass. I didn’t trust that I could stand much longer so I turned off the stove, grabbed my purse, and sat on the floor next to the sink. I dug my shaking hands into my bag and grabbed my phone. I hung up twice because my quaking fingers called my friend Monica and then my friend Molly before I stabilized them enough to hit “Mom” in my contact list.

“Mom,” I sobbed when she answered. Fear smothered me, and I wondered how she would see me once she knew I had killed a man.

“Brooke? Honey, what’s wrong?”

“Mom,” I cried, “a man came to Jaren’s—” I tried to collect myself, because I was sure she didn’t understand me.

I tried again. “There was a guy who came to Jaren’s saying I needed to go with him. When I didn’t want to, he stormed into Jaren’s house and tried to force me. Jaren tried to protect me and almost got himself killed.” I took a few deep breaths trying to delay what I was about to tell her.

“Are you okay? Did you call the police?”

“Well…he had Jaren by the throat, so I stabbed the guy, but it only ticked him off. Then he came after me, and we fought, and I killed him. Please don’t hate me. I’m so sorry,” I said, pleading with my mom to not disown me. I needed her right now.

“Slow down. I could never hate you. Now think. Why did he want to take you?”